


Beyond

by CharlieNozaki



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hotels, Paranormal, Supernatural Elements, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12426579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieNozaki/pseuds/CharlieNozaki
Summary: The historic Baratie Hotel has housed countless guests within its walls over the years. Unfortunately, one has yet to check out.[Modern AU. Paranormal. Includes artwork].





	1. Shadow

* * *

The historic Baratie Hotel stretched long on the beach like a tidal wave from inland, set to crash over the ocean itself. The hill that rose up behind the white mansion was topped with a row of palm trees that towered over the grounds below, their leafy bursts and tall trunks swaying in a funny synchronised dance with the wind.

At night, they became something different, soldiers standing sentinel, watching silently as, in the distance beyond the hill, the lights of the city lit the sky a dusky purple and plunged their silhouettes into darkness.

The sixteen ionic columns that supported the front eaves of the mansion mimicked their stance rigidly. Sometimes, if the warm light from the building’s many windows was bright enough, and the moon hid itself away, their shadows sprang out as far as they could, over the marble terrace, down the stairs onto the sand in a desperate bid to reach the ocean. They never quite could.

The hotel’s wooden floorboards were creaky; its hallways were long. Its decor was a time capsule, that of a nautical beach club of yesteryear, albeit a lavish one. On fine days, the floor-to-ceiling windows were left open to the breeze, wispy curtains tickling wicker furniture.

One might never assume all the chaos the tranquil Baratie had withstood over the centuries.

Storms, battles off the coast from the Pirate Wars that left the ocean-facing facade riddled with bullet holes worn into the stone exterior.

Its rooms had seen death, accidental and intentional. Overdoses in bathtubs, perished sailors---injured and starving after a bloody battle, a suicide off the third floor balcony to the west.

Laughter and music might have flowed through its walls now, good food and good memories working hard to staunch out the bad, but to those who looked past the surface, the darkness was undeniable, always waiting to be uncovered.

Despite all that, Sanji didn’t believe the hotel was haunted. Nothing crazy like that.

It was his home. His father owned it. He’d lived there all his life, helped out in the restaurant’s kitchen since before he could remember. To him, the hotel was grand and welcoming and full of history. The strife of years past surely left behind nothing but relics and stories.

Sanji was never afraid to take a night shift, never afraid to stay alone and work the front desk after dark, roam the halls for routine check-ups.

His co-workers called him brave for it, but he honestly didn’t see it that way. Late at night, when guests were asleep and the grounds were quiet, any shifts or noises the old building made simply reminded him of a ship, rocked softly by the waves, never completely silent.

It was a place he was drawn to, a place he’d tried to leave, when he’d chosen a college several hours away, but he’d come right back after graduation with a degree in hospitality and a fully focused dedication to the hotel. He was still young with so much to see of the world, and his friends joked that he’d be stuck there forever, but how could he feel stuck when he loved everything about it?

In fact, there was no better feeling of freedom than standing on the front terrace, smoking a cigarette and watching the sunset over the ocean waves, or getting to be there for so many joyous moments in their guests’ lives.

He wasn’t living vicariously when he witnessed weddings, anniversaries, and celebrations of all kinds that chose the Baratie as their venue. He was merely feeding off their cheer and happiness.

They came with smiling faces, and they left with smiling faces. And maybe it was naive to gloss over the negativity in the Baratie’s past, but if he focused on it, creeped himself out by it, then it would surely have changed his entire perception of this place he loved so much.

It would have done so particularly one summer night, close to one in the morning, when he sat behind the front desk in the lobby by himself, nothing but the slow tick of the grandfather clock across the room, the smell of smoke drifting in faintly from an open window, most likely a lingering bonfire from a party down the beach.

He sat by himself, still dressed in his work uniform, a smart black double breasted suit, typing in a few figures from that night’s dinner service into the computer. Summer was drawing to a close, but they’d still been busy, as they had been every night, though Sanji had to imagine the crowds of vacationers would die down in the coming weeks.

Still, it was empty now.

It was quiet and peaceful, save for the two footfalls he suddenly heard, a sound he knew well from the squeaky floorboards directly beneath the threshold that connected the entrance hall to the side check-in lobby.

_“Hello?”_

A man’s voice, and Sanji looked up from the computer, eyes having to adjust a bit to the dimmer ambient lighting after staring at the white screen for so long.

Just within the open glass doors, there indeed stood a man, one who looked rather out of place, his brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the room.

He looked young, with short spiky hair of a dyed minty green that would have been explained by the whole pastel trend if the guy hadn’t contradicted the aesthetic entirely with dark jeans, a worn leather jacket, and combat boots.

Sanji could not remember him as a guest, and they weren’t due to have any late-night check-ins, but the stranger had a backpack slung over his shoulder, so the blond got to his feet, a smile coming to his face despite his confusion. The guy could’ve been wearing a hat earlier, changed clothes. He could’ve come in with a larger party, and that was why Sanji didn’t recognize him.

“Sorry, sir, hiding behind the computer~ I didn’t hear you come in until just now,” he said.

It was true. He hadn’t heard the front doors open. But he’d also been focused on his work.

“Can I help you?” he asked, hoping the man wasn’t looking for a room, because, unfortunately, they were fully booked.

The man’s dark eyes met his for an instant.

And then he vanished.

Sanji felt a chill run down his spine, his heart jolting in his chest as he stared at the empty spot, smile fading slowly from his face.

Someone had been there, clear as day. He’d seen him, heard his voice. He’d been sure of it. Sure enough to actually _speak_ to the man. Could he really have imagined it…?

A few more seconds staring at the spot, then his gaze shifted around the room, which hadn’t changed. He heard nothing, saw nothing out of place.

Damn. He must really have been tired.

Sanji lifted a hand to smack at his cheek a little, shaking his head and letting out a breath.

 _“Shit....get it together,”_ he muttered to himself, and settled back down into his chair, leaning elbows heavily on the counter before him.

Hands rubbed over his eyes, and he realized that they did throb a little. That faint burning throb that happened when he hadn’t slept enough. The computer screen’s bright light blazed into his retinas.

Yes, there was certainly exhaustion there. Definite cause for spacing out and seeing things.

He still had a few hours left until he was due to lock up and go to bed. Being privately-run, their hotel didn’t have twenty-four-hour service, so it was in their stated policies that from the hours of one in the morning to six, guests were on their own.

It had never been a problem for as long as his dad had owned the place, and so, Sanji vowed to stick it out, enjoy this quiet time…..but perhaps with a small cup of coffee to wake him up.

So he abandoned his admin work for the moment, getting to his feet and striding out from behind the front desk to cross the room.

The wood floor creaked loudly beneath his shoes, so he quickly stepped off it to skirt along the oriental rugs instead, dulling the sounds of his movement.

There was another lounge on the other side of the large entrance hall, a lounge with a hot water machine and a coffee maker, which the geezer had strategically tucked inside a decorative cabinet to avoid any eyesores in the room.

It shouldn’t disturb the sleeping guests, so long as he turned it off before the timer alarm beeped.

Hands in his pockets, Sanji walked beneath the threshold, out of the lobby room.

That was when something flashed in the corner of his eye, a shadow, moving, with long appendages that swung independently to look like thick arms.

A sharp inhale and he instinctively whipped his head towards it.

But again….nothing. Nothing but empty couches, the large potted fern in the corner.

He froze there for a moment, just watching, _still_ watching even as he murmured, _“Coffee. Coffee, for fuck’s sake,”_ to get his mind back on track. This was getting ridiculous.

He kept moving, now into the main entrance area, the large front doors to his left, and the grand staircase that led upstairs to the guest rooms on his right, the deep red carpet spilling down the middle of the steps towards him. Sanji didn’t like the color. It reminded him of a long tongue rolling out of a gaping mouth, but his father had stubbornly insisted on following the tradition of the place, keeping it red as it had been for decades. One day, when Sanji owned the hotel, he would change it to blue.

Briefly, he glanced up the stairs, still well-lit through the night, the large mirror on the wall at the top of the first landing reflecting the second set of steps that doubled back to the upper floor, also affording a small glimpse of the guest hallway as well.

He looked away, finally reaching the opposite lounge room, shrouded in darkness until he flipped an inconspicuous light switch on the wall, hidden behind another potted plant, the ficus tree that had nearly doubled in size since they’d first acquired it a few years ago.

Light flooded the room beyond the glass doors, which he opened carefully to avoid any unnecessary squeaking.

He liked this lounge. It had bookshelves, a grand piano where their musician, Brook, often played. The glass doors on the opposite side of the room all led out to the wrap-around deck, always left open during the day to let in the warm air and provide access to the comfortable rocking chairs set up out there.

He’d barely had the lights on for a second before footsteps, unmistakable running footsteps, rushed him from behind, with them a gust of cold air that came from nowhere.

Sanji jumped, turned, and was confronted with the sudden image of a face advancing towards him---nothing but a face.

But it was the same face he’d seen a few minutes before. The face of that man with the green hair, only this time, his eyes were wide, almost panicked, his mouth open for the split second his visage imprinted itself into Sanji’s brain.

And then he was gone from sight again, but Sanji _felt_ him. He no longer felt like he was alone in the room.

This was the first time. This was the first time _anything_ like this had ever happened to him. There were the stories, things his co-workers and guests had recounted of odd things they’d seen, heard, and felt. Disembodied voices. Footsteps. Dark shadows. Cold spots, and unexplainably heightened emotions.

He’d never believed them. But _something_ was definitely happening now, because his body was reacting. His heart was pounding; his skin prickled with goosebumps. And there was that faint smell of smoke again that absolutely should not have been there.

Sanji wasn’t scared. At least, he told himself he wasn’t. He was too rational for that, but he still found his footsteps quickening as he crossed over to the cabinet, opened it and threw another paranoid glance over his shoulder that he couldn’t help.

There was that feeling every kid knew, of being left behind in a dark place, running up the basement steps as fast as possible to escape the unknown monsters lurking just out of sight….

He felt it in that moment, but he forced himself to calm, slowed his frantic movements so he didn’t smash any of the ceramic cups and saucers when he reached for one.

He set them aside on the small table beside the cabinet, pressed the button on the silver coffee maker.

But it didn’t turn on.

There was no beep, no welcoming flash on the small menu screen. Why?

Instantly, his eyes followed the cord to where it threaded through a small hole at the back of the cabinet. He shuffled around to peer, with some difficulty, behind it.

It was plugged in.

So he tried again, jamming the button down harder.

Still nothing.

_“Say something!”_

A low voice, close, a few feet from him. An aggressive-sounding male voice that had Sanji stumbling back in surprise, knocking into one of the open cabinet doors, sending it squealing on its hinges.

“Who’s there?!” he blurted out automatically to the empty space, eyes searching the room nervously now for any sign that this was someone fucking with him.

The thought of the humiliation was enough to muster a burst of bravado within him, and he took off across the room towards the sitting area, checking behind every couch and chair and growling when it turned up nothing.

That voice had been _so_ clear! Too clear to not be human!

He was certain of this as he reached the fireplace, not caring how crazy he looked when he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the old speckled mirror hanging above it. He ducked down, moved aside the black iron grate across the opening and stuck his head in, finding, predictably, nothing in there but darkness and soot.

A huff and he gave that up, moving back the grate and straightening once more to see the man standing directly behind him in the mirror.

Sanji stopped. Everything stopped. He stopped breathing, and he didn’t move.

Like looking into the sun, forcing himself to stare was an unnatural feeling. To force his eyes, wide with instinctive dread, to focus on the figure behind him. The figure that hadn’t been there a mere moment ago. The figure who met his eyes for the second time, sending a shivering shock through Sanji’s body, head to toe.

 _“Who are you?”_ the blond just barely whispered, knowing if he looked away, the man would disappear again.

The man’s countenance changed, his face cloudy and warped beyond the tarnished glass, but his expression was instantly bewildered, as if reacting to Sanji’s words.

He opened his mouth.

_“I know you---”_

And then he was gone once more.

Sanji stood there, alone again, as he’d always been, the lone reflection in that mirror.

When he looked behind him, his solitude was confirmed.

He felt sick. He smelled smoke, and he felt sick, his chest tight, a slight sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.

No more. This was insane. Not even making coffee anymore, no. Fuck it. He was going to bed and sleeping this _damn_ fever dream off. That was to say, if he wasn’t already dreaming, a growing possibility.

He hurried across the room, heart fluttering as rapidly as a terrified rabbit’s, leaving him feeling lightheaded as he hastily shoved everything back into the cabinet and left the room, closing the doors and flipping off the lights.

He realized he shouldn’t have the instant he heard the latch click behind him, the doors swinging open on their own.

The blond didn’t look back. He didn’t even re-enter the front lobby, wasn’t mindful of his footsteps anymore, let them thump freely and loudly as he rushed to the stairs, unable to ignore the fact that another pair followed swiftly after him.

Up the stairs he went, trying not to stumble, though his breathing had picked up, and it was growing more and more difficult not to panic when those steps behind him kept coming.

He reached the landing, his own reflection sprouting up into view in the large hanging mirror. He kept going, even as he saw a glimpse in the glass, again, of the man behind him, whose eyes narrowed, his hand reaching out towards Sanji.

Sanji rounded the stairs, desperate to get away, but that was when he felt it. A touch. A solid, ice cold grip clamping down onto his shoulder and yanking him back.

With it came terror, but also a shot of adrenaline that had him whirling around to face whatever the hell was behind him.

Nothing stood in the mirror, apart from his own disheveled, trembling self, but still, he hissed, “What do you want?!” to the open space, not expecting a response.

But he got one, in the form of an equally hissed reply of, _“Listen!”_

In the moment he heard that voice, he saw him in the mirror again, just briefly, the man’s back, though he couldn’t see anything in front of his face.

“Listen?” Sanji panted helplessly, not knowing how he was supposed to do that when he couldn’t see or hear this entity for more than a split second at a time.

Frustration mixed with his panic as he stood there, heavy breaths still leaving him, unsure if he wanted the man to appear again or not.

Too long passed. The air felt thick and stifling. Silence, complete silence, and enough time went by that he began to feel stupid, standing there. He’d been _certain_ he’d seen what he had, but now, was it gone?

 _“Fuck,”_ he cursed to himself under his breath, eventually turning on his heel and starting his ascent again. He felt a little better with his own cynical voice as background noise.

_“Fine, so the place is haunted. Fine. I believe it. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I believe it. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna run. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna let it scare me. If anything, this is good! I can provoke the stupid ghost to go bug Patty and Carne instead of----”_

As soon as his foot touched down on the plush carpet of the hallway, the lights went out.

Every light went out and that overpowering smell of ash and smoke came back to him, along with a surge of emotion. Fear, but also sorrow, regret.

He realized he was standing in the burnt skeleton of the hallway, pitch black smears somehow darker than the night itself staining the walls, wallpaper curling off and hanging low like tendrils extending to grab him.

Sanji stood stock still, staring stubbornly at the top of the steps. Somehow, his body kept him there, even though there was such a powerful feeling of loss rising within him, the instinct to flee strong as movement tugged at the edge of his vision in the dark.

He couldn’t move, and when the lights blinked on and the hallway righted itself in a heartbeat, wallpaper pristine and the smell the familiar breezy, salty air that permeated much of the building, there were tears in his eyes.

Why? Why the _fuck_ were there tears?

There was a shuddering breath directly beside him, and his entire right side went numb, a freezing cold invisible presence materializing there.

Sanji sniffed, took a deep breath himself, and wiped at his eyes frantically.

“Are you---are you showing me how you died?” he murmured to the empty space, voice thick.

No reply, even though he could still feel the presence circling around him now, until the coldness disappeared, replaced by the usual warmth and light humidity.

Slowly, sensation came back into his right arm, and he lifted his left to rub his hand over his sleeve.

When had there been a fire here? He had no knowledge of one, and certainly not one that would have been big enough to destroy the entire floor.

The man he’d seen had been wearing modern clothes too. Was that his own imagination filling in missing details? Or had something happened in the years he’d been away at university…..something his father hadn’t told him?

Why would he keep that a secret though…? 

Fuck, he needed some fresh air. He needed to clear his head and process everything he’d experienced. And he needed to research, find out when the _hell_ such a fire had occurred.

He moved off, starting the long walk towards the end of the hallway, past identical white doors labeled with gold numbers.

210….211….212….

The hallway was in flames.

Smoke blurred his vision, and he could _feel_ the heat rush over him, enough that it brought a sheen of sweat to his forehead.

The worst part was, he was rendered immobile. He was rooted to the spot, unable to scream, unable to flee. He could only watch the impending disaster roar in front of him, coming ever closer, sweeping up everything in its path.

And just when he thought the flames would swallow him whole, engulf him with no escape, they disappeared, leaving the hallway as it should have been, quiet and untouched.

He didn’t hesitate this time. He ran down the hallway to the end, where the doors to the upper balcony lay in wait. If his pounding footsteps disturbed guests, he didn’t care at this point. He simply had to get out, had to clear these _fucking_ visions from his mind and stop these tears that stubbornly fell.

It wasn’t real. Not in this moment at least. Everything was fine and he had to remind himself of that when he pushed through into the clear night air and stumbled his way up to the balcony railing.

He didn’t hear the door click shut behind him, but he refused to look back, more concerned with fumbling in his pants pocket for his gold lighter, then inside his inner suit pocket for his box of cigarettes.

He pulled one out, stuck it between trembling lips and flicked the lighter. A flame sparked up, but then quickly disappeared. Over and over he tried, until his thumb was raw, but no flame would catch.

Sanji growled with frustration, clamped the stupid lighter in his fist and fought back the urge to chuck the damn thing into the courtyard below. His fist shook with the effort it took to resist, and the blond eventually shoved it back into his pocket, dissatisfied and in need of nicotine.

That was when his cigarette caught fire on its own.

The tip burst into flame, and he nearly dropped it when his mouth fell open in surprise. It didn’t simmer to its usual slow burn though. Instead, the flame shot down it, disintegrating the stick to ash that fell into his mouth and caused him to cough and splutter as it rained down over his shirt to the ground below.

“What the fuck do you _want_ from me?!” he cried, desperation in his tone.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a light, a floating orb of light, came flashing his way from the door that stood wide open. He’d been sure he hadn’t propped it like it was.

The light came closer, flashing on and off, backing him up against the balcony, unable to look away.

It nearly reached him, when it blinked off….and didn’t come back.

He waited. Waited, almost _frustrated_ now that this shit was being so elusive.

But then, a blinding white light shining directly into his face, enough that he had to shield his eyes, raise a hand to cover it. The air was freezing cold.

It shone for so long though, long enough that he actually lowered his hand a little, tried to get a good look at it. He couldn’t be fucking scared. It was just a light.

He stared at the area around it, unable to look at it directly, and that was when he saw something coming into focus, a figure standing behind the light, faintly visible in the darkness, partially obscured by the bright orb.

It was the man again! He couldn’t make out his entire form, but that was definitely his face, underlit and creepy as fuck, but now Sanji wanted _answers._ And if this fucking insane moment was happening? Fine. Let it happen!

“Answer me, dammit!” he insisted forcefully. “What do you want? Who are you?”

He half expected the man and the light to disappear the instant he spoke, but he didn’t. Instead, his face lit up with something else, a look of wide-eyed disbelief, and then a slow grin, an audible laugh.

“You’re fucking---you’re _real!”_ replied the man, staring at him in amazement, and it was such a useless response that Sanji actually rolled his eyes. At a _ghost!_

“Of course I’m real!” he shot back. “What the hell are _you?”_

The apparition looked just as baffled to be having this conversation, enough that he fumbled for words again for a second.

“I’m---” he started to say, eyes seeming to want to take in every detail of the blond’s face. “I’m Zoro---I’m---”

But he never finished his sentence. He disappeared, as did the light, plunging Sanji back into lonely darkness.

He kept talking though, even as eyes blinked frantically to adjust to the sudden lack of light.

“Zoro? Is that your name?” Sanji pressed. Weird-ass name, but at least it would give him something to Google later. “Did you die in a fire? Is that why you’re pulling all this insanity?”

Sanji never thought he’d be _thrilled_ to hear a low, disembodied voice growl, _“No!”_ in his ear.

“No what?!” he called out in response, though there was an edge of excitement there. An actual conversation was happening here!

Or….there was for a moment, until there was silence again, and Sanji threw up his arms.

“Urgh, if you can’t talk, just---write a message on the wall or something---and not in blood or some freaky shit! Actually, on second thought, forget it, because I’ll be the one cleaning it up…”

The blond sighed, staring into the empty night air.

He didn’t feel threatened by this ghost guy. That genuine look of amazement on his face when they’d made contact had been enough to tell Sanji he was harmless, at least on the surface.

If he was going to accept this whole situation though, he assumed he also had to accept the fact that there might still be real problems here. He couldn’t afford to hallucinate this shit at work. He couldn’t afford to freeze in the middle of a conversation with someone because, suddenly, the entire hallway was on fire. Even if his co-workers could commiserate with their own paranormal stories, he had a job to do.

That thought in mind, he gave up on his cigarettes, instead marching back inside, down the empty hallway towards the emergency stairwell on the other end.

He moved quickly, eyes shifting about with paranoia, almost expecting another vision or voice, or even a touch, to spook the living daylights out of him again, but nothing happened. The hallway stayed the same, and the stairwell was normal as well, nothing strange about its undecorated interior.

A sigh, and he moved upstairs, footsteps echoing in the cavernous space, fluorescent lights tiring his eyes with their harshness. But it was up to the third floor he went, where he and his dad maintained their living quarters in a suite down a shorter hallway, separated from the guest rooms. It was modest, but it was how the two of them liked it.

Sanji pushed down on the metal bar once he reached the third floor, tentatively peeking out at the hallway beyond, but it was the same as the last, red carpet narrowing to a tiny point on the distant end of the building.

He even stood there for a minute, watching the hallway with an air of defiance, almost daring something to happen now. Daring Zoro to appear and stare him down, or for that creepy light to swallow him up whole.

Would it be stupid to talk to him again? To try and coax out a response, not that it would probably work out the way he wanted. It seemed this weird shit happened on its own terms.

He shook his head, abandoning that imposing hallway view to turn the corner, heading down the shorter one instead.

It was here that he found himself muttering out loud as he approached the door.

“Zoro? Are you listening?” he said quietly, fumbling in his pocket for the room card, which he tapped to the scanner on the wall. A quiet beep and the door unlocked. Sanji turned the doorknob. “We need some ground rules, okay? First of all, none of this---”

He walked in to find the room completely dark.

Dark….but smoldering.

Sanji walked into the destroyed ruins of his suite.

Ash, broken glass, charred remains of furniture. Their small kitchen, where he liked to try out new recipes for the restaurant, was gutted, cabinets in disrepair, the counter collapsed in on itself. Nothing remained in the living room, save for two chairs covered with white tarp that seemed to glow in the moonlight that streamed in through shattered windows.

Gone were the framed photos they’d kept on the wall from his and his dad’s trip to France, though he could see the faint outline of where they’d hung, etched in the soot coating the once-clean walls.

He couldn’t even walk past the kitchen, the floor completely caved in, crumbling down into a gaping black hole, sucking in wooden beams and bits of carpet and insulation.

There was _nothing_ left, and this was harder to withstand than the burning hallway. This was his _home,_ however small, where he and his dad had shared memories, returned to after long days of work. Even if he considered the whole hotel his home, this was his sanctuary within that, and seeing it so completely ruined was more painful than he ever could have expected.

Tears filled his eyes again, his heart in his throat, and the vision was so vivid, so _real,_ that he felt terror begin to fill him again.

He could smell the smoke, permeating every surface. He could smell mold and decay, things that should not have dirtied the air, not here by the ocean, not in this beautiful place.

Why wouldn’t the image leave? He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, opening them after a good ten seconds. It persisted.

He tried again. No change. Hands came to his temples, squeezing hard, but it didn’t help.

The blond frantically looked behind him, hoping that would reset the images, but was horrified to find the hallway just as burnt and abandoned, lights gone, pitch black without windows to light the way.

 _“What the fuck---what the **fuck** ,”_ he breathed, feeling panic start to take hold as he whipped his head back towards his suite, even daring to take a step in. He _felt_ the floor dip dangerously beneath his foot, enough that he drew it back fearfully.

 _“Hey! Geezer!”_ Sanji called out, not even caring if he raised his voice now. He wasn’t where he should be. Things weren’t as they should be! _“Geezer! Fucking---are you in there?! **Dad!** ”_

His own voice sounded far away, like he was hearing it from a great distance. And there was no response from his father.

Heavy breaths, his heart throbbing in his ears, and he slammed fists to his hair.

_“Wake up---wake the fuck up! Why is this--- **urgh!** ”_

It was a nightmare. It had to be, especially when he heard noises behind him, footsteps creaking ever closer in the dark, and he couldn’t see _anything._

Everything in his body was telling him to get out. Get out of the building. Get out of here, go _somewhere_ before he completely lost his mind.

There was nowhere to go _but_ down that hallway, into that black cave that surely housed any number of unseen demons, visions, and images he was terrified to see.

Shaking, he went anyway, used the adrenaline spurred by his fear to fuel him into that void.

He stumbled through, nearly tripping over fallen boards and rubble that were so real and solid when his feet knocked into them.

He found the side stairwell, shoved his way in and felt his way down through the darkness, clinging, first, to the railing before he felt rusted bits and chips of paint flake off in his hand, enough to make him withdraw it and stick to the wall instead.

All the way to the ground floor he went, and when he saw no reassuring warm light shining in through the square window in the door, he felt yet more tears of hot panic prick at his eyes.

Fists he slammed on the door, forehead pressed to the glass, beyond which stood nothing but dark desolation still.

He closed his eyes, tried and failed to control his quickening breaths.

And he audibly gasped when he heard the metal bar on the door depress, lurch beneath his weight to swing open on its own.

He scrambled back, nearly fell backwards off the landing to tumble down the final flight of stairs to the basement.

The door continued to open though, and just when it came swinging back to shut, he saw, through the window, a fleeting glimpse of an apparition, the back of a head moving away. A head of very distinctive green hair.

Sanji didn’t wait.

“Hey!” he yelled, forcing legs to move, sprinting after him, bursting through the door and out into the hallway.

He looked back and forth frantically, didn’t see him for a second, until he heard the door across from him click shut, like someone had just entered it.

 _“Hey!”_ he called again, rushing across the corridor and shoving open that door too, the grime of soot tangible on his hands.

The ballroom he entered upon was empty, largely unchanged from how it usually was, a huge open space, but something wasn’t right about the mirrors that lined the walls. The reflections were distorted, smoky. He couldn’t even see himself....and then, in that mirror world, the entire room burst into flame, consuming his reality in a menacing orange glow.

Instinctively, he turned around to run back, but a door opening on the other side of the room distracted him.

Sanji caught just a tiny glimpse of a leg slipping through the door before it closed again.

He was off, braving the devilish flames behind those mirrors, chasing the man across the length of the ballroom towards the door marked ‘Exit.’

He didn’t stop in the hallway, particularly not when he saw the door to the billiards room was missing entirely, cool moonlight suddenly washing over the space and snuffing out the flames behind him instantaneously.

Plunged into darkness once more, he couldn’t make out anything….save for the figure standing in that room across the hall, his back to Sanji as he stared out a window, silhouetted.

Sanji couldn’t breathe suddenly, physically couldn’t get enough air, it felt like, shoulders heaving and heavy coughs hacking out of him. He dragged feet forward though, leaned heavily against the door frame, eyes not leaving what had to be the image of Zoro in that room.

“Sto---Stop this---- _Stop this!”_ he huffed out, a hand coming to his chest to grip his shirt. “Please! I’m----I’m sorry for what happened to you! I-I don’t----know when it---when it happened but---”

Zoro wasn’t responding, didn’t seem to hear his voice at all. It was frustrating enough that Sanji pushed off the wall, slowly crossed over, willing the man to stay there, to make contact with him again, do _something._

“You have to---move on from this place!” Sanji insisted through labored breaths, nearly upon the ghostly man now. “You can’t be stuck here forever! It’s---It’s not---! Urgh, Zoro, _listen to me,_ come on!”

Sanji reached out to grip Zoro’s shoulder, _hard._ He couldn’t even marvel at the fact that he _could_ touch him. He simply tugged Zoro around to face him, frantic eyes searching his face…..

A respirator mask covered half of it.

Just as it had….that….night….

Revelation hit him at the sight. Sudden, hard revelation that stopped his heart, stole his breath.

 _“It was you…”_ Sanji realized.

Overwhelming emotion followed in a rush. A tidal wave of ultimate loss and grief.

He looked down to see the skin of his hands blackened with soot and congealed blood, visible skin blistered and red beyond recognition.

He didn’t see it for long before a white light blinded him, engulfed everything, including his body. He had no control, couldn’t even close his eyes.

White light. Endless white light.

His mind was blank.

He _was_ the light.

...

The first image that took shape in that heavenly void was of his mother. His mother, whom he hadn’t seen since her death, close to seventeen years ago.

She smiled, extended a hand.

 _“I’ve missed you, Sanji,”_ she said.

And she was beckoning to him.


	2. Light

Zoro couldn’t see. Blinded. Nothing but smoke and hellish orange light clouding his mask, his labored breaths huffing noisily through the regulator over his nose and mouth.

He was protected under layers and layers of fireproof padding in his coat and pants, but the heat was nearly unbearable, and sweat continually dripped into his eyes with no means to wipe it off his brow.

Ace, Sabo, and Marco were nowhere in sight, and Zoro wasn’t sure where he’d lost them. It was no surprise. The old hotel was a sprawling labyrinth as it was, let alone when it was on fire.

The call had come, initially, from an employee, who hadn’t sounded concerned. It had started small. A spark from an old electrical wire.

But then their firefighting team had arrived to find the entire building ablaze in a magnificently deadly display the likes of which Zoro had _never_ seen in his years on the force. It was bad enough that they’d had to call back-up from a neighboring county’s station.

There were several dozen already evacuated, huddled fearfully on the beach, stricken, smoke-dirtied faces lit by that enormous bonfire before them.

There were many already safe.

Zoro didn’t want to think of how many weren’t.

Still, he hadn’t seen another person for a while now, as he’d traversed upper floors.

Where the hell were they? Had _everyone_ really escaped? He couldn’t believe that, _wouldn’t_ believe that until he was absolutely positive. He’d scour every corner of this place if he had to. Losing even one person was not an option.

Such was his thought when he heard a slam from somewhere down the hallway, clearly a door. And it had to be slammed by a person.

He took off faster towards the sound, braving sparks and smoke, ducking under sagging beams and dodging forming holes in the floor until he found himself at the end of the corridor, nowhere else to go.

Well, nowhere but the room on the left, around the corner and down a shorter hallway, which he knew he hadn’t checked.

“Is someone in there?!” he called as loud as he could, knowing it would be difficult to hear his voice beneath the mask and flames.

He didn’t wait for a response, merely hurried over and shoved himself into the door.

It opened easily though, and he entered upon what might have been a guest room or a lounge, a kitchen area to the side. It was impossible to tell now, but there was one thing for certain.

On the floor in the center of the room, lay a man, prone and unmoving, even with the danger of encroaching flames.

Zoro’s eyes narrowed with determination, adrenaline coursing through him as he rushed into the room.

He fell to his knees beside the victim, breaths coming quicker as gloved hands swiftly but carefully rolled him onto his back, away from the flames licking ever closer.

He came limply, eyes closed, and dry, chapped lips slack. Zoro could already see burns on his skin, red blistery marks along his neck and hands. The rest of him was thankfully covered in what was probably a nice suit, though it was dirty and scuffed now.

There was a discreet nametag pinned to his lapel. He worked here. Sanji was his name.

Shaggy blond hair, drenched with sweat, had plastered itself over half his face, and Zoro felt a twinge of fear shoot straight through his chest. He’d never been too late for anyone, and he prided himself on that, but….

Zoro’s eyes didn’t leave the blond, searching intently for any sign of movement even as he fumbled at his side, locating the correct clip and unhooking his spare mask from his waistband.

He had to get him out, he knew, but the sooner he could get oxygen in the guy, the better.

The second mask was hooked to his tank too, which would cut its usage time in half. He wasn’t really thinking about that though as he slid arms under Sanji, hauled him up to a sitting position and finagled the mask over his head.

A moment more, a hand pressing to the unconscious man’s chest as he listened above the crackle of flames….until he heard, with a sigh of relief, a faint movement of air hiss from the regulator, felt a hitch beneath his palm.

He was alive. And that was enough.

An arm he slid under the other man’s, shifting to crouch and pulling the man up onto his shoulders, gripping his leg with his other arm until he had him comfortably centered. It wasn’t the best method to carry him, but without another rescuer there to help him, it would have to do.

He turned, stepping over rubble to head back the way he’d come.

* * *

Finding a viable exit was easier said than done. Almost every turn was engulfed by flames, enough so that it was nearly impossible to determine which way was which. Hallways and rooms became nothing but hellish landscapes spouting smoke and flames from every crack and crevice. With the fire roaring high, the danger of a cave-in or a collapse was becoming very real.

Zoro never panicked, merely steadied himself as much as he could and kept pushing forward, even as his radio crackled, voices trying futilely to get through to him through the overpowering heat.

He couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. He had to get this guy out, and even if his teammates were trying to help, he couldn’t afford distractions at a time like this.

He wouldn’t stop. Nothing could make him stop.

_“Turn….around….”_

His heart thumped hard when he heard a muffled voice very close to his ear. Had he imagined it…?

 _“Go---the other way,”_ the voice said again, a little louder, only to cut off with a hoarse cough, though it tried again a few seconds later. _“Take the---south stairwell. There’s a metal---door. Should’ve kept out---the flames---”_

More coughing and Zoro decided to shift the man, hastily lowering him off his shoulders to the ground where he leaned heavily against Zoro’s side.

Indeed, there were lucid blue eyes barely visible through the fog between them, the man’s breaths heavy and difficult, but there was something about the way he batted at Zoro weakly, muttered, _“What are you---doing? Let’s go---idiot,”_ that told him this guy was a fighter.

Zoro stared, a little surprised, admittedly, but he shook it off quickly and told him, “Get on my back,” already shifting his cumbersome gear pack around to the front and hoisting the man into a piggyback hold instead.

The blond lifted a hand, pointing Zoro in the right direction, so he took off, sprinting as fast as he dared, not knowing the structural integrity of where he tread.

He followed Sanji’s directions, trying not to stumble over fallen beams and send them both tumbling right into the heat.

Sanji whacked him on the helmet a few times when he apparently took a wrong turn, but before long, he’d discovered a door at the end of the hallway, a large metal door, as Sanji had said, that still swung open easily when he shoved a hip into the push bar in the center.

Immediately, the air was cooler, far less hazy in the dark stairwell. As soon as the door shut behind him, the flames licked up over the glass window, but Zoro sighed. They were a little safer for now.

“You holding up?” he said over his shoulder.

But then he got no reply, and despite the heat, a shot of cold panic ran through him, enough that he jostled the blond.

_“Oi!”_

A groan a second later though, Zoro’s body sagging with relief in response.

“This fucking sucks….” came a quiet mumble behind him, and Zoro couldn’t help it. He actually grinned.

“Yeah, well…we’ll both have a badass story to tell,” Zoro justified, smirking gently behind his mask.

The blond snorted.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack from the other side of the door, a shower of sparks raining down shortly after, and Zoro knew they had to move.

He hoisted the blond up on his back and started down the stairs, going as quickly as he could in heavy boots and a bulky uniform. Feet thudded heavily as he reached the lower floor, but one look out the door’s window told him that floor was likely impassable too, just as many flames roaring outside it.

“Shit,” he growled, and kept going down instead.

It was impossible to tell if the air was getting clearer with their descent, the entire place cast in that same cloudy orange and purple fog. He thought he heard shouts from somewhere, and his radio crackled again, but, holding Sanji, he couldn’t pick up. It was better to keep moving.

One more floor down, the last one, by the looks of the large number 1 printed on the wall beside the door. The stairs continued down, most likely to the basement, but Zoro stopped there, peering, with a certain amount of dread, out at the inferno blazing on that floor too. He could make it, but Sanji was completely unprotected.

“I gotta risk it,” Zoro said to him apologetically, and he felt the blond shift against his back.

 _“Go---straight down the hall,”_ Sanji stuttered out, having to stop to clear his throat. _“There’ll be---another set of doors. Through that’s the main entrance. If you---get us lost, I swear to fuck...”_

“M’not gonna get us lost!” Zoro assured, amazed that he could still manage to be annoyed at a time like this.

A deep breath through his regulator and he steeled his nerves.

“Okay. Home stretch,” he muttered, then burst out through the door.

As predicted, a wall of heat assaulted them. If he could feel it through his uniform, he worried immensely for Sanji, but he forced himself to press forward, breaking into a run through what was essentially a tunnel of flames at this point, very quickly closing in from all sides.

That was when his respirator beeped loudly in warning.

 _“Fuck!”_ he swore automatically.

 _“What was---that---?”_ he heard Sanji groan.

“Nothing!” Zoro assured. “We’re fine!”

They weren’t, apparent when the little gauge beeped again, more urgently. They had about five minutes left of oxygen, and with the two of them hooked to one tank, it was looking like far less.

Of course, this only made Zoro’s breathing speed up, panic and exertion taking hold, particularly when he realized the path in front of them was blocked by several flaming beams that had fallen from the ceiling, preventing them from even getting close to that distant door to salvation.

He hesitated, despite himself, knowing he could probably pull out his axe and hack his way through, but certainly not carting Sanji and not in this dwindling amount of time.

“Alright,” he huffed. “Alright, we’re finding another way. Where are there windows?”

 _“Billiards room,”_ Sanji supplied, his voice sounding breathless, but a lot clearer, though Zoro couldn’t worry about that now. _“Through the---ballroom. Hallway on the---right side. Cross it and---billiards room will have---”_

He stopped short, falling into choked coughing. There was no time to waste.

Zoro kicked his way through the door Sanji’s finger weakly indicated once again.

The door opened onto a sprawling open space, a ballroom that seemed to go on infinitely thanks to the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined every wall. Glass chandeliers hung high above, and it might have actually been quite beautiful, that flickering lighting all around, had it not been from deadly flames.

He didn’t look for long, just sprinted through while he had a clear path, past the small stage at the other end, up to a pair of doors with an illuminated ‘Exit’ sign above that must have been the right pair, considering Sanji didn’t berate him for his choice.

Through them he went, into a smaller hallway, less engulfed by fire than it was with smoke. Just as dangerous.

Oddly, his respirator hadn’t alarmed again and his breathing wasn’t yet restricted, leading him to wonder if it had gone off due to the heat, a malfunction of some sort. He wasn’t taking his chances.

This hallway was dark, the lights out, but he could just barely make out another door across the way, one that he shouldered his way through quickly.

The smoke was _so_ thick now, forcing him to slow. His only guiding light was outside, the light of flames waving over the grounds, out the windows that were indeed across the room.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed, lifting Sanji up a little more securely, the blond’s body slumping against him. “We’re almost out!”

He trudged across the small lounge, following that light, nearly bumping into a pool table in the dark and almost knocking over a standing lamp.

He reached one of the windows though, and it wasn’t how he usually did things, but he lifted a leg and kicked at the old glass, right in the corner, causing the entire window pane to crack and fissure like a spider web that crumbled away with a second kick.

Immediately, there was a gust of cool air from outside, vacuuming smoke out with it, and he grinned.

“Okay, come on, you first,” he said, and shifted to lower Sanji to the wide window seat, expecting him to help situate himself.

But he didn’t, just fell limply into his arms, and that was when Zoro realized with absolute horror.

He’d disconnected his mask, which swung lifelessly at his side.

Just as lifeless as Sanji in his grasp, his head lolling back when Zoro shook him.

Zoro stared, frozen with shock.

“No---” Zoro stuttered with disbelief. _“No,_ you fucking---! Why would you---?!”

 _That_ was why the oxygen levels had stabilized! With only one person using the tank, it had bought him extra time and---

A fearful noise left him, for perhaps the first time ever, followed by another stream of curses.

He moved, changing his initial plan, to prop Sanji up against the window sill, shoving himself through the window first, nearly tumbling right into a hedge. But he righted himself and pulled Sanji out backwards, heaving him into his arms bridal-style the second he was able.

Zoro ran then, through the side courtyard, past the smaller bungalows that had yet to catch fire, but were still connected to the main mansion by the covered walkways that stretched between them.

Red lights flashed over the white buildings from the fire trucks and emergency vehicles gathered in the entrance roundabout, but he was alone, all their efforts concentrated on the opposite end of the building.

Powerful water hoses were already going to work, their gushing roars prevalent over the shouts of rescue workers in the night.

Still, he ran until he was positive the flames couldn’t reach him, and then he was down, laying Sanji out on the grass, ripping off his helmet and mask to reveal a gnarled mess of sweaty green hair. Teeth ripped off his gloves frantically.

As soon as his hands were free, he jammed them to Sanji’s neck, pressing there desperately for a pulse but feeling nothing.

 _“Fuck!”_ he cursed, terrified, and he nearly yanked his radio clear off his chest when he grabbed the receiver to speak into it.

“Ace!” he called. “Sabo! Someone! I got a man down in the courtyard. Not breathing, unresponsive. Bad burns. Get the medics over here right fucking now!”

He dropped the receiver, barely registering a crackly reply of, “Roger that!” as he leaned in to tilt the blond’s head back and blow air into his lungs.

Twice, then frantic compressions, his eyes on the man’s face the whole time, the blood and soot off-setting his deathlike pallor.

He’d done this before. He knew what to do, but this time, it felt different. This was _his fault._ The fool had gone and saved _him_ by removing that stupid mask, and now what the fuck was Zoro supposed to do? If he didn’t save him back, he’d be fucking useless as a fireman, useless as a _person._

 _“Breathe, you bastard,”_ he growled as he went, when yet more breaths did nothing. _“Come on. What about that badass story, huh? Are you seriously gonna---”_

He couldn’t finish, could only continue his efforts as he panted heavily, sweat dripping down his face, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest the longer it went on. The longer _nothing_ changed.

Eventually, paramedics came running, carrying a folded stretcher, all kinds of equipment.

Zoro backed off, reluctantly, even if his lips quivered and tingled with the taste of blood and smoke, even if his hands still trembled with the effort of pounding on the man’s chest, over that sullied dress shirt that had probably been crisply pressed just hours ago.

He should’ve rushed off to help the others, let the paramedics take over and do their job, but instead he stood there in the background, watching helplessly as their attempts went by, just as fruitless, watching as oxygen did nothing, watching as a defibrillator did nothing.

Zoro was willing Sanji with all his might to come back, cursing him out in his head, _screaming_ for the idiot to just keep fighting. Time after time, shock after shock.

Time after time, shock after shock, the blond’s body slumped back to the ground with no response.

“Think we need to call it, Shachi,” murmured a dark-haired medic to his colleague, a tattooed hand visible as he checked his watch, two fingers sliding from the blond’s wrist with finality.

Zoro shook from head to toe as they slowly removed the oxygen mask from Sanji’s pale face, his knees nearly giving out.

The angry tears in his eyes burned hotter than the blazing hotel behind him.

* * *

Zoro had never imagined he’d set foot in that building again after that horrible night. Not after he’d found out who Sanji Black had been.

Son of the owner, who’d survived the blaze himself, but promptly sold the mansion to the historic society and left town after the fire.

Sanji had been the only one they lost that night. The only fucking one in the whole goddamn place. And he’d been just as young as Zoro. His whole life and career ahead of him.

Zoro had been responsible for him. And he’d lost him.

This was unacceptable, but it was a fact of life. And it was something he had to atone for.

This was the only explanation he could think of as to why he’d gotten in his jeep one night, months later, when the guilt and the self-hate were keeping him awake, sitting in his small apartment with a beer and nothing but his defeated thoughts to keep him in bad company.

He’d left in the dead of night, gone for a drive to clear his head, and he hadn’t intended on driving down by the shore, but he somehow found himself parked outside the charred ruins of the once-great mansion.

It was black, a literal skeleton, almost a negative image of what it had been, only small patches of its formerly white facade peeking through.

Still, its pillars stood almost untarnished, a row of long strings drawn taut, a web set to ensnare any who dared enter now.

Zoro did.

He didn’t know what he’d find inside, what he was even going to do, but before long, he’d grabbed a flashlight from his glove compartment, tossed it and a lightweight respirator mask, in case there were toxins inside, into a backpack, and headed up to the building from the parking lot. Odd things to keep in his car, but he was almost always on call. He’d rather be prepared.

The hotel was intact from the outside, and the front doors were still as strong as ever. He had to apply force to get them open, leaning against the wood heavily until they creaked open, casting bright moonlight onto the entrance hall beyond.

He’d never been inside the place before the fire, so he had nothing to compare the damage to now, but there was still something dignified and regal about the stairs that climbed up into a dark void, the shattered remnants of a chandelier leaving a pool of shimmering glass in the center of the floor.

He didn’t need his flashlight. Not yet at least, as the shattered windows let in enough jagged rectangles of light that he could still make out his surroundings.

Zoro didn’t know what he felt, standing there for minutes, taking in the shadows, the furniture, covered with white sheets, the way the breeze whistled ominously through the open halls….

It should have been frightening, but, in reality, Zoro just felt numb. He’d only experienced this place shrouded in infernal orange, now encroaching black. The black was, honestly, preferable, an emptiness like the hole losing that man had torn in his heart.

Just then, a faint noise to his right, something odd, a tapping.

His head turned, peering across the hall towards that side room, noticing a dirty gold plate over the archway that still read, ‘Check-In.’

He moved closer as the noise continued, the wood creaking beneath his feet as he passed by those veiled tables, chairs, and sofas, stepped over yet more broken glass.

The sound continued, grew a little louder, and while it could have been an animal, a mouse or something, it sounded familiar, with its stops and starts….like typing on a keyboard.

He paused, just within the threshold of the door and called out, “Hello?”

The sound ceased.

There was nothing there. No computer that could’ve made the noise, only more covered furniture, a long counter that had probably been impressive and ornate, but now sat broken and burnt.

Silence.

He was about to turn back towards the entrance when, suddenly, a voice, as clear as if someone had been standing just within the room.

 _“Can I help you?”_ the voice said, even though there was no one there.

Or at least, there wasn’t for the moment Zoro stared with disbelief at the empty space.

But then, there he was.

In an instant, the room was lit, a flash image of its former homey glory, polished furniture, potted plants, rich colors.

And behind the counter stood the blond. Not sheet white, not covered in blood. His hair was clean and shiny under the warm light, his uniform pristine and stylish, and his smile was kind and welcoming for the moment his blue eyes met Zoro’s.

And then he vanished, plunging the room back into its dilapidated state, leaving Zoro alone again.

Zoro stood there, unable to move, his chest trembling with some mix of awe, shock, and incredulity.

That had been _Sanji._ He was _sure_ of it. Sanji as he should have been, alive.

But the question now remained. Had that brief vision been real? Or had it simply been his own wishful thinking, his own desire to see what he wanted desperately to be true?

Zoro didn’t believe in ghosts or an afterlife. So it had to have been the latter. Right…?

He stood there, ran a hand over his face, let it linger over his mouth, watching the empty room for any sign that what he’d seen would return.

It didn’t, which wasn’t so surprising.

 _“Shit, get it together,”_ he muttered to himself, sliding his hand around to the back of his neck as he turned from the room.

His footsteps sounded hollow as he retreated back towards the formerly grand staircase. He was unsure of where he was going, just that he didn’t want to stand there and contemplate what he’d seen for any longer. It was too painful.

What had that man’s life been like here, he wondered.

When the place had caught fire, it had been a well-known tragedy, the whole surrounding area mourning for the loss of such a historic place. Almost everyone Zoro knew, save for himself, had some sort of memory there, a wedding, a banquet….

Zoro supposed, with bitterness, he now had one too.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs, gaze focused on the mirrors that still adorned the wall at the top of the first landing, reflecting the moonlight from below.

Should he go up? It wasn’t clear how stable the upper floors would be, and judging by the patchy ceiling, the answer was probably not very.

Still, he’d started to move towards them when, from across the hall, he heard the quiet sound of doors opening. His head whipped towards it, and sure enough, there, the doors to another dark room across the hall were swinging wide open. On their own.

He didn’t know how else to react but to run, run _towards_ it and chase the activity, chase that hunch he had that maybe this had something to do with that split-second vision.

Zoro’s eyes were wide as he ran, combat boots echoing, and then he realized what he was running towards when none other than _Sanji_ materialized in the blink of an eye, his form almost transparent, but there nonetheless, the background misty behind where he stood.

Zoro saw Sanji’s expression morph into one of shock, just briefly. Their eyes met again. And then he was gone.

“Wait!” Zoro cried, letting out a frustrated growl when he came to a stop in the doorway where Sanji had been.

 _“What the fuck,”_ he hissed to himself, dragging a hand back through his hair.

Was he going crazy? Was this shit really happening?

A soft clatter, and a burnt cabinet across the room unexpectedly opened. Nothing came out, but he heard the sound of glass or ceramic clinking together. _Why?_ There was nothing inside!

He hurried over to it, watched the open cabinet door, saw nothing but dust and dirt on the shelves.

Zoro never startled at things, but he came pretty damn close when the clinking sounded again, and the small table next to the cabinet rattled slightly.

Something was moving these things, and judging by what he’d seen, he was almost positive it had to be Sanji, as crazy as that sounded.

“Oi! If that’s you, give me a sign!” Zoro hissed, feeling pretty stupid for saying it out loud, but it wasn’t like there was anyone around to hear him. “Move something else or---or---I don’t fucking know. _Say something!”_

Frustration mounted.

But he got his wish.

A few moments after his demand, the cabinet clattered again and there was a voice, a panicked-sounding voice that was faint, but clear enough to register a distinctly human tone.

 _“Who’s there?!”_ the voice yelped, and Zoro couldn’t help it. He let out an audible sound of amazement.

“You _heard_ that?” Zoro screeched, even though the man was nowhere in sight and he was, in fact, alone again. Or so it seemed.

He wasn’t; he could feel it, could feel another presence in the room as plain as if someone was standing there with him.

It was a weird-ass feeling to have. He was pretty sure he’d _never_ felt anything like it, not even when he was a kid. He’d never been afraid of the dark, afraid of monsters in the closet or stupid shit like that. If anything, he’d welcomed it, if only so he could kick the monsters’ asses.

That wasn’t to say Sanji was a monster, or that he needed his ass kicked. Well, not that he knew yet, though if the guy kept up this slippery act, maybe he’d have to.

Not long though before the grate over the fireplace across the room gave a screech of metal against brick, and Zoro turned quickly to see it moving back by itself.

“The fuck are you doing…?” he muttered, crossing the dark room.

He stopped in front of the mirror above the fireplace, watching the line the grate drew in the soot coating the bricks. It was definitely being dragged. There was no doubt about it.

But then, a mere moment after, it began to drag back, something that baffled Zoro to no end. Was it supposed to be a message? Was he supposed to figure out what it meant, that back and forth movement?

He didn’t have to think about it for long though because there, in the mirror, over his own cloudy reflection, Sanji’s appeared, and the instant he noticed Zoro, their gazes met.

There he was again, looking a little more shaken than he had before, no comfortable smile in sight, but he was still fine, intact, uninjured. He stood there, completely solid in the mirror, the image so vivid, the moonlight even falling onto his face naturally.

Zoro didn’t know what to say as the moment continued, went on for far longer than the others had. It was long enough that he _knew_ he couldn’t be imagining this. It was actually happening. By some fucking miracle, luck, whatever the hell it was, he could have a chance at this. He might be able to say to him the things he’d been wanting to ever since that night.

Sanji was the first to manage words, the blond whispering, _“Who are you?”_

Zoro frowned. Sanji could see him. But Sanji didn’t recognize him.

It probably made sense. He’d only seen Zoro’s face covered by a helmet and mask, but still there was something odd about his tone. He sounded fearful almost, like….like _Zoro_ was the anomaly here….

“I know you---” Zoro insisted, but that was when Sanji vanished again, leaving him staring at his own reflection once more. He didn’t stop though, instead blurted out, “I was---the firefighter who---!”

The cabinet behind him flew open, then slammed shut, footsteps shuffling hurriedly across the floor. It was the door that closed on its own next, and again Zoro found himself running, out the door and back into the entrance hall, where he looked around frantically.

He’d run out here, right? He had to!

The sound of running footsteps again, loud, pounding on the wood towards the stairs.

Zoro followed in hot pursuit, breaths huffing out, not even thinking to pause, assess the safety of the steps before climbing them.

There used to be a carpet. He could tell by the tattered remains that still clung to the stairs in places, and he nearly tripped over a few raised pieces.

But dammit, he had to catch him, somehow, and when he saw, in the mirror on the landing, a figure quickly round the bannister, his eyes narrowed.

He sprinted up the last few steps, reached out in front of him and darted his hand out instinctively.

He wasn’t expecting it to make contact.

Zoro felt his hand touch down on something solid, fabric, a _suit jacket._ And it was ice cold, almost cold enough to make him yank his hand away in alarm, but he kept it there, gave a tug, and he saw, in the mirror, Sanji’s body whip around with the proper reaction.

 _“What do you want?!”_ he hissed, to which Zoro growled out, _“Listen!_ I’m trying to talk to you! Don’t keep running!”

Sanji blinked out of existence again, as did the solid form beneath Zoro’s hand, which fell back to his side.

“Don’t...keep _running,”_ he muttered again, shaking his head in the silence that followed.

He stood there, unmoving, listening for more footsteps, but none came, and eventually he was forced to acknowledge that, above him, at the top of the next flight of stairs, was a familiar scene. A glimpse of a long hallway, now menacing and claustrophobic in a different way.

Zoro hadn’t realized he’d climbed the stairs until he was right there in the heart of it, standing in the midst of that dark tunnel, almost pitch black without windows to light his way.

He slid his backpack down his arm, unzipped it, and rummaged inside for his flashlight, which he pulled out and flicked on, sending a bright beam of light shooting down the corridor.

A chill ran up his spine, seeing curled and peeling wallpaper casting claw-like shadows, stains of ash and soot standing like figures watching his every move.

He could smell the fire. He was _there_ again, surrounded by flames, Sanji on his back and panic in his heart as he searched desperately for an escape route. It was powerful enough, _affecting_ enough that he nearly turned back, nearly left all of this behind and went back downstairs.

But the return of the footsteps stopped him.

He heard them running down the hall, away from him, deeper into the blackness.

It was definitely fucking dangerous to run up here. There was no way the floorboards had held up with how strong the blaze had been.

And yet, he recklessly sprinted after him, his flashlight bobbing, illuminating broken doors, glinting off golden room numbers that still hung, some off-kilter, on the walls.

Every way his eyes looked, he thought he saw him, thought he saw the blond, running by his side, ahead of him, everywhere at once. He could have sworn he heard his breaths, labored and difficult, over his shoulder, just like that night.

The door at the end of the hallway swung open suddenly, and Zoro rushed to catch it, moonlight stretching long and cold over the dark corridor.

His flashlight shone out onto nothing. Nothing but an empty balcony.

He stopped, panting, confused about this game of cat and mouse. Where the fuck was Sanji leading him? Where did he want him to go? Where was he himself going? He’d responded to Zoro. He couldn’t be wandering aimlessly, could he? So why was he still here?

Zoro stared out into the cool night air, wanting answers but feeling like he might never get them. What if he woke up at home….all of this a dream…?

Dream or not, a small light flickered in front of him, by the balcony railing.

At first, he thought it was something in the distance, farther down the beach where a few more tiny lights still shone, despite the late hour.

The light flickered again though, and it was close, appearing and disappearing with more speed now….almost like a lighter trying to catch a flame.

Zoro’s brow furrowed and, slowly, he started to walk towards it, his flashlight beam illuminating his path.

He stopped, just in front of where he’d seen the mysterious light, waited and wondered if it would return.

Until, an instant later, Sanji appeared, directly before him, his hand shooting up, eyes squinting and lips scowling in what could only be a reaction to the bright flashlight in his face.

Zoro looked at him, the man now closer than ever before, so tangible it was incredible.

Slowly, an incredulous grin came to his face as the vision persisted, as the blond seemed to calm a little, put on a brave face to growl, _“Answer me, dammit! What do you want? Who are you?”_

A laugh escaped Zoro’s lips.

“You’re fucking---you’re _real!”_ he exclaimed, eyes fixed on the blond who _still wasn’t disappearing!_

 _“Of course I’m real!”_ Sanji argued immediately to Zoro’s delight. _“What the hell are **you?!** ”_

Zoro fumbled for words, again faced with the feeling that Sanji wasn’t clued in, that he was confused about what was happening. About _why_ it was happening...

It took him a second, but he stuttered, “I’m---I’m Zoro----I’m---”

Sanji vanished, Zoro’s jaw dropping in response.

“I was trying to tell you! I was the firefighter who found you!” Zoro continued anyway, desperation rising in his voice, even reaching out to see if he could grab him again to no avail. “Remember?! I carried you on my fucking back! And you kept telling me I was going the wrong way and---!”

_“Zoro? Is that your name?”_

Sanji’s voice again. Sanji’s voice! Replying to him, even though he wasn’t visible. He could hear him!

 _“Did you die in a fire?”_ Sanji was asking. _“Is that why you’re pulling all this insanity?”_

 _“No!”_ Zoro shot back immediately. That confirmed it. Sanji didn’t understand what had happened. And there was something fucking awful about that. “You---You think _I’m_ the one who---?”

He stopped himself, because it had gone dead silent again, and even if he’d been trying to come to terms with Sanji’s death since watching it happen, he still couldn’t say it out loud, especially not to _Sanji_ himself.

On top of everything…on top of failing to save him, breaking the news of his death was…. If the man didn’t even know he was dead….how the fuck could he do it?

No. He had to, he knew.

So, fine, maybe something did happen after death. That much was clear now. So, fine, he couldn’t save him. But maybe he _could_ help him move on.

 _“Think you’re gonna kill **me** when you find out…”_ Zoro breathed to himself, pinching his nose before huffing out another determined breath.

He strode away from the balcony, unsure where he was going, but wondering if maybe Sanji would follow _him_ this time. He was sick of chasing him around.

So he went back inside the dusty hallway, decided to walk aimlessly, moving almost in a trance through the abandoned halls. There was no sign of Sanji, no feeling that he was around. Nothing but himself and the darkness surrounding him.

It grew stifling, as he walked, the air thick and musty, so he reached into his pack again and pulled out his respirator mask, slipping it over his head and situating it over his nose and mouth.

It didn’t help much, only took him right back to the fire, but still he wore it, trudging through the building, feet dragging him to an unknown destination which, by the time he stood in front of that window, turned out to be the billiards room through which he’d gotten out.

The glass was shattered, just as it had been. He knew. He’d done it himself, propped the blond against the windowsill right where his fingers now brushed.

Zoro thought of Sanji’s face. The sweat and grime. The blood and the burns. Why would he have done what he did for Zoro of all people? They didn’t even know each other. And maybe he could have made it. Maybe he could’ve done it, even with the dwindling oxygen.

Maybe….

He’d never know the answers, would he?

Sanji was gone, and the building was quiet, no slams, no footsteps.

When Zoro closed his eyes and pictured Sanji’s ghostly face, he opened them and the blond wasn’t summoned. He was nowhere. And yet Zoro was still here, in this burnt shell of a hotel, and it wasn’t fucking fair.

There was nothing he could do...

Out of nowhere, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, eliciting a sharp gasp as something whirled him around, away from the window.

Eyes wide, and there was Sanji standing there, a frantic look in his gaze as he scanned Zoro’s face.

But then, his hand fell limply to his side, shoulders slumping, a growing look of shock….and then….sadness on his face.

Zoro wasn’t sure how long the two of them stood there, eyes on each other. Nothing was said, but Zoro somehow felt like they were finally connecting. Sanji’s eyes said it all.

He knew, didn’t he. Zoro didn’t know how, but Sanji knew the truth.

 _“It was you…”_ Sanji murmured quietly.

And before Zoro could even reply, the blond’s image pulled into itself, into a bright white orb of light that hovered in front of Zoro for a moment.

Then, it too vanished.

It felt final. Just as final as when Sanji was loaded onto a stretcher, a white sheet over his body.

“Yeah….” Zoro managed, far too late. “It was me…”

* * *

The nearly full moon was high in the sky above the waves, its light reflected on the water below, softly rushing up onto the beach.

Zoro sat there on the cool sand, legs crossed beneath him, watching the ocean quietly, his back to the Baratie looming behind him.

He’d been there for a while. He should really have packed up and made his way home, the knowledge that Sanji was probably gone enough to appease his regrets.

But it didn’t feel right. Not yet, not without finally voicing aloud words he’d repeated in his head.

He didn’t know where they’d buried the man, couldn’t visit his grave, and frankly, he didn’t want to. He’d much rather stare at the ocean, teeming with life and energy, to say his piece, than a static stone slab.

“I’m sorry, you idiot,” he murmured into the night, small waves curling over themselves. “You saved me, but I couldn’t----I couldn’t save you... You shouldn’t have….shouldn’t have had to….dammit...”

Zoro trailed off, clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Alright, I get it. Quit apologizing---it’s freaking me out.”

Zoro sucked in a breath, eyes not leaving the dark navy horizon for a long moment.

He almost didn’t dare let it out.

But then he slowly turned to look beside him, where that voice had sounded, loud and clear.

Beside him sat Sanji, a leg propped up and an arm slung over it, a cigarette burning between fingers. He no longer wore his suit jacket or tie, merely the white shirt, a few buttons undone, sleeves rolled casually up to his elbows.

His smirk was teasing when he met Zoro’s eye.

Zoro felt something in his chest clench, a pang that was both sorrowful and glad. The positive feelings won out, lips tilting up in a slow smirk of his own.

“Took you long enough _to_ get it,” he quipped quietly.

Sanji rolled his eyes and shot Zoro a withering look.

“Yeah, I dunno why I---whatever,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you. Never saw your face.”

His expression softened then, and he looked down to study his fingers, which flicked some ash from the cigarette tip, ash that floated away and disappeared into thin air.

“Thanks for trying, anyway,” he mumbled, eyes shifting from the cigarette to Zoro’s face briefly. “Trying to save me, I mean.”

Zoro squirmed a bit. He hadn’t wanted thanks. He’d just wanted to feel okay with himself, like he’d done all he could, even given this outcome.

His gaze stayed fixed on Sanji’s face, watching wind play with his hair gently. There was no wind, he realized.

“So….where will you go now?” Zoro asked eventually, to which Sanji shrugged, finally lifting his head to look at Zoro properly again with a grin.

“Don’t think you’re supposed to know that yet.”

Oh, right. Dead things? This was still so fucking weird.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” Zoro muttered.

“Nah,” Sanji replied.

“Are you gonna haunt me or some shit?”

The blond chuckled, quirking a brow.

“Maybe~”

Zoro made a show of scowling, even if he could admit that it might not be such a bad thing, provided the guy didn’t drive him insane.

Perhaps it could even be advantageous, to have a dead person on his side.

“If you see a girl named Kuina,” Zoro murmured after a minute, a bit more reflective as he noticed the way Sanji’s form seemed to be lowering in opacity. He was no longer completely visible beside him. “Can you tell her I’m still gonna kick her ass one day?”

Sanji looked at him again, the blue of his eyes blending into the buildings behind. 

“Wow, _you’re_ a real gentleman,” he deadpanned, unimpressed.

“Shut up,” Zoro replied, staring him down seriously. “Will you tell her?”

Sanji watched him for a few heartbeats, seemed to be calculating something, even as his body started to fade away more rapidly.

The last thing Zoro saw clearly was a genuine smile, just like the first image of him that had flashed inside the hotel.

“Sure,” Sanji agreed, his voice sounding far away. “Bye, Zoro.”

“Bye, Sanji…” Zoro murmured. 

And he was alone on the beach once more.

He sat there for a long time afterwards, watching the water, thinking about how, in another life, maybe he and that blond would have been good friends.

* * *

**_~END~_ **

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Just somethin' a little spooky for October! Thanks for reading!


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